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had largely come to the conclusion that his father might be somewhat shell-shocked after the battle and the loss of his boys.  Jeff swung his rifle around in front of him moved up to the edge of the road, lying down near where the drainage ditch met with the road’s shoulder, a point at which he could cover his dad largely unnoticed by whoever was approaching.
    He watched his father standing in the middle of the road, vehicles still burning or smoldering around him, waiting, staring down the road ahead of him.  He just stood there, not even pulling his handgun which was shoved securely in his rear waistband.
    But Jeff pulled his and laid it on the ground beside him as he wriggled to better position his assault rifle in the crook of his shoulder.  His dad might not be thinking straight, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
    * * *
    I slowed our trailer-hauling pickup and pulled it gradually over onto the shoulder of the road as we watched the smoke rise ahead of us.  Its engine coughed and sputtered worryingly as I stopped, and it made me wonder just how much further the late-80’s model would take us.
    We stopped about three-quarters of a mile from whatever was taking place up ahead of us.  I left Claire, Jason and pregnant Pam in the front of the truck, got out, and walked around to the rear of the vehicle where the rest of the group was riding with our supplies in the pickup’s bed and the attached farm trailer we were hauling.
    “Looks like something’s going on up ahead of us,” I told the others as they piled out, stretching stiff legs and sore backs.
    “It’s already gone down by the looks of it,” said Ray, nodding at the rising smoke.
    “My question is, after our last few experiences, do we want any part of it?” I asked, looking around at the rest of the group.
    “Might be a trap,” said my brother Will. 
    “Or they might need our help,” said Ray.  “Could have been an accident.  People might be hurt.”
    “You’re awfully trusting for a former FBI agent,” I said, frowning at my best friend.
    “Just a lowly public servant at your service,” he grinned at me, bowing slightly.
    “Bull shit ,” I smiled tiredly back at him.  “Don’t give me that crap.  It was your job to be wary of these kinds of situations.”
    “I also served in Iraq, and I know that not all people are bad people.  Sometimes it’s about how people react to situations.  Situations can make good people do bad things.  I always felt it was my duty as a soldier, as an American, to ensure that I didn’t let that happen to me.  I tried to let situations make me better and enable me to help other people to do the same before circumstances dictated their actions.”
    “Wow,” Will said, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.  But you forget…America’s gone now.  This is the land the Su flu left behind.”
    “No,” Ray said, he tapped his head. “America is still here.”  And then he tapped his heart, “And here.  America isn’t a place or a government or a certain group of people…it’s a feeling, a way of life and living…an attitude I guess.  We love our independence, but that independence gives us the freedom of choice to help others.  Now personally, that’s just the way I feel.  But I also think that you can’t just go around being afraid all the time.  Cautious, yes…afraid, no.”
    “Good point,” I nodded.  “So why don’t you go check it out?” I tilted my head towards the rising smoke.  “I’m going to take a nap.”
    “Yeah, right,” said Ray.  “You’re too much like me.  You can’t just ignore this and let it go.  You’d never be able to sleep wondering if someone was cooking inside a vehicle or injured and dying on the side of the road when you might have done something to help them.”
    I exhaled heavily, knowing that he was right.  I hated this kind of crap.  I had my own family to worry about, and now an extended family too.  But Ray